The Cradle of Destiny
by Kvothe of Many Talents
Summary: He would later always say that he did exactly what he wanted, after all, he is the allmighty Emrys, or at leat was him before it all happened. But honestly, who would want to travel back in time to one of the worst times in the history of Albion for a magic user to even exist - to the very beginning of Uther's Great Purge?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

-Halt! State your business in the citadel.

Merlin looked at the guard and raised his eyebrows, realizing that he's never seen this one. More to the point, it seemed that the guard's never seen _him_ which, in happier times, could have led to an impressive joke. Alas, the times were what they were and he really needed to get the news to Gwen. So he drew himself to his full height, slammed the Sidhe staff into the ground, lighting up the crystal on top of it, and stated:

-I am Merlin, Lord Caledonensis of the Northern Reaches, the Queen's sorcerer and the Emrys of the Wizards' Council. I am here with urgent news for Queen Guinevere regarding the Saxon threat from the former kingdom of Odin.

The guard's eyes opened wide in recognition and he shifted nervously, gripping his halberd so hard that the hands turned white.

-The... the Queen ordered that no one is to enter or leave the Citadel.

The warlock frowned, suddenly feeling somewhat uneasy.

-Surely that does not include those of the Round Table.

-I was told that no one is to enter.

The feeling of unease morphed into something more, something cold and ugly.

-I don't think I've seen you before. - Merlin's voice was deceptively calm.

-I-I am new to Camelot, Sire.

-And yet you are entrusted with the safety of the royal family?

-I...I...

-Get out of my way. - Merlin strode forward, pushing the guard aside with a brief flare of magic.

It was only his battle-honed reflexes that allowed him to block the halberd's blow with his staff, instinctively throwing the treacherous guard into the wall. Something cracked and Merlin doubted that it was the stone of the wall.

The false guard tried to rise, but his legs refused to obey, and as he shifted on the ground, blood trickled out the corner of his mouth.

-What is going on? - Merlin demanded.

The guard tried to spit at him, but choked on blood and started coughing.

-What is going on? - The warlock repeated himself. - Answer me!

The guard remained stubbornly silent and Merlin growled.

-I don't have time for this, _hiersumaþ me_! Obey me and answer my question!

-The queen... the weak queen... - The guard was forced to answer through gritted teeth, fighting every word, and Merlin felt his heart fall. So it was a plot against Gwen after all. No longer caring about the morality of his actions or the lasting effects of the spell upon the guard's mind, he cast again.

- _Mod wæs cræftleas_! _Hiersumaþ me_! _Hiersumaþ me_! Who are you? What are you doing here? Who else is working against the queen? What is the plan? _Answer me_!

The guard's pupil expanded, and the eyes went unfocused, showing him to be under the effect of the spell. When he spoke, his speech was rough from his injuries, but unimpeded by his mind and will, which were almost destroyed by the enchantment.

-I'm Gwrgi, son of Eliffer. Two months ago Lord Rhydderch... - Gwrgi coughed up some more of his blood and looked at it as though it were the most interesting thing in the United Kingdoms of Albion. - Lord Rhydderch of Alt Clut hired me brotha an' I along with a bunch of others. He told us all 'bout the weak queen in Camelot, an' said that if we helped him, when he's king, he'll make us lords. His people infiltrated the citadel over the last few years and one o' them slipped some kinda poison into the guards' supper in tha kitchen. Then a loyal guard opened tha gates an' I was told to guard it and let no one in.

-The Council of Kings would never support his claim. - Merlin barked. Alt Clut, the part where the Northern Reaches connect to the original Five Kingdoms. The North, damn it, the North! _His_ North, the one _he_ was entrusted with!

-Rhydderch said... - this time the guard's coughing fit lasted longer, - Rhydderch said that most o' tha Council already supports him, 'cause tha queen is not a noble an' has no heir. Tha Council would support third cousin of Queen Igraine with two male heirs.

Merlin's eyes darkened as he realized that that was a very likely outcome. More than once the members of the Coincil, united by Gwen's diplomacy, the skill of Camelot's knights and Merlin's sheer power, attempted to seize the power for themselves. More than one former king hoped to usurp Gwen's place and rule over the united Albion. Rhydderch was an idiot if he thought he could hold the power – without Gwen the Council would rip itself apart and Albion would be divided again, weak against the Saxon threat from the South.

Merlin straightened and ran toward the royal chambers.

-Idiot! - He growled at himself. -Idiot, idiot, _idiot_! - He saw another armed man in the corridors and threw him into the wall with bone-shattering force. It may have been one of the loyal guards, but the warlock was in no mood to ask questions and decipher loyalties. - Gwen _told_ me it was a bad idea to leave Camelot for so long, but no, I was _so_ certain that the main threat came from outside. I saw how uncomfortable the Lords of the Council were in my presence and thought I would _help_ by leaving for a few months! Idiot!

As he rounded the corner, Merlin almost tripped over a body. A second glance revealed the pale face of Sir Leon, arms cradling his stomach, face contorted with pain, eyes glazed over in death. Not letting himself feel the loss of one of the few genuine friends he had left, one of the most loyal knights of the realm and the general of Albion's armies, Merlin ran on.

Percival's bulk meant that he succumbed to the poison slowly enough to see the usurpers enter the palace. No less that four traitors lied around him in puddles of blood, but even his strength was not enough. Judging by the lay of the body, his attackers took advantage of the fact that he was without armor and stuck a sword in his back.

Sir Cedfyl, Sir Maelgwn, Sir Erith, Sir Bran – as the warlock ran deeper into the citadel he saw more and more familiar faces among the fallen. The lack of blood as well as lack of enemy bodies showed that most of them succumbed to the poison among with the guards, whose faces, if not names, Merlin recognized. It took him a minute to realize that there were barely any servants among the dead and he barked a harsh laugh in realization. When did Gwen, when did _he_ start to underestimate the staff to the extent that a traitor managed to replace most of them with his people, and they didn't even notice?

As he neared the royal chambers, he encountered more and more enemies that he took care of with nary a thought, forgoing incantations and merely slamming them into the walls or out the windows with kinetic blasts from his staff. Soon he could hear the sounds of clashing steel and raised voices, signifying that the struggle was still ongoing. With renewed determination and hope, he strode forward, bitterly regretting putting anti-teleportation wardstones under the castle.

The corridor leading to Gwen's rooms was covered in bodies, known and unknown alike, showing that someone realized what was happening and managed to rally the remaining defenders to the queen. Merlin burst into the room, a second later realizing that he stepped over Elyan. The queen's brother, it seemed, was dining with his sister and took the position in the narrowest part of the hall – the doorway itself, guarding Gwen until he succumbed to the sheer numbers.

-Rhydderch! - He roared, blasting aside the mercenaries. The Lord stood tall, his sword crossed with Gwen's, but stepped back to see both of his opponents upon hearing Merlin's call. Now, seeing his face, the warlock vaguely recalled him as one of the many he met upon receiving the Northern Reaches from Gwen, both as a reward and as the only one able to control the rougher northern people who respected nothing but power.

-Merlin. - He spat, his face contorted in fear and hate. Yet, Merlin couldn't help but smile in return. _He got here in time_.

-You're late. - Gwen said with a tired smile, tinted with grief and a hint of shock. She must have seen her brother die right in front of her once again, Merlin realized, not to mention that she wasn't as young as she once was and hasn't used a sword in quite a while. He once again cursed himself for not getting here sooner.

-My apologies, my queen. - He said shortly, not taking his eyes off the northern lord. - I got held up by some miscreants, but they would not trouble you anymore.

Rhydderch's face twisted as he realized the implications of Merlin's words.

-You think I am the only one who will fight for the throne? People see a weak queen that prefers peace and compromise to war and strength, a queen who prefers to ask instead of ordering and relies on others to fight her battles. They see a queen, who has no heir, a queen, who's death would bring turmoil to Albion, unless she's succeeded by a strong king.

-And you think you're more suited to the High Throne? - Gwen asked, her voice tinged by anger. Her eyes held barely hidden fury as shock started to wear off. - You come to my house and slaughter men royal to the Realm, and you think that makes you a worthy king?

-Certainly more worthy than a servant girl with no knowledge of how actual ruling works. - Rhydderch replied. - My father, Tutagual, was a King. A throne is my birthright.

-There's no way you could have brought a small army into the heart of Albion without support from someone among my trusted. - Gwen tilted her head in thought. - Tell me who helped you and your death will be quick and honorable.

The northern lord spat at her feet and Merlin moved a step forward. Rhydderch spun toward him and with a single move Gwen put a sword through his side. The Lord's eyes opened wide as the sword fell from his hands.

-Who's weak now? - The queen hissed in his ear and twisted the blade. Rhydderch fell with a dull thud.

Gwen dropped her sword, looking down at the body and despite the situation, Merlin smiled. It was a well-rehearsed move, though usually used in politics and not actual combat. Merlin would draw attention with a threat or a reminder of his power, and Gwen would gut the enemy argument just as they dismissed her for a puppet queen. It was highly effective.

-Merlin? My Queen?

Both of them turned around and Merlin smiled at the first good news he received since the day started.

-Sir Tristan? - Gwen asked, trying to pull on a smile, but not really succeeding. - What are you doing here?

After Arthur's death it took some time to track down the elusive smuggler, but the queen's new, slier policies in regards to law enforcement and the new employment of magic users for search-and-capture missions were highly successful. It took almost as long to persuade him to join the Knights of the Round Table, but both Gwen and Merlin always felt the effort spent was well worth it. Not only was he a top-notch swordsman, but he also had contacts that the Queen could never access herself. He was always the first to bring news of any potential uprisings, of attempts at takeovers by other monarchs, of secrets of the wealthy and the powerful. One could say that the entirety of Albion's espionage network was wholly his achievement.

-I came as soon as I got wind of the approaching forces, but it seems I was a little too late. - He nodded toward Rhydderch's body. - I got separated from your royal quarters by what seemed to be an endless string of armed men and not all of us can defeat enemies with nothing but a flash of their eyes. I'm glad you're safe, Your Majesty, and I'm sorry for your loss.

Tristan stuck his sword back in the sheath and came forth, embracing Gwen. For a moment Merlin thought that her gasp was due to surprise at Tristan's sudden empathic side or a barely hidden sob. Then the former smuggler released her and the queen fell down, her eyes wide and a dagger in between her ribs.

 _A dagger in between her ribs_.

Merlin ran forth so quickly, he suspected he briefly slowed down time. How... When... What...

-Gwen!

-M-Merlin? - For a moment she sounded young, small and confused. - It hurts.

-I... - He choked on a sob, only now realizing that he was crying. - I know.

-Merlin? You can make it b-better, can't you? - Gwen's voice shook. - You always make it better.

-I... I... - Even had he the presence of the mind, he doubted he could have said anything. And what was there to say? Healing spells were never his strong suit, despite all the effort he put in after watching Arthur die in his arms, and even if they were, the wound was fatal. The only thing that could save her now was the power over life and death, which he never managed to summon again after Gaius and Numueh, or the Sidhe at the Lake of Avalon, miles and miles away, separated from him by his own blasted wardstones, inhibiting teleportation among other things.

With another choked sob, Merlin grasped her hand as though trying to physically hold her back from the Otherworld.

-Gwen, stay with me, stay with me, Gwen, please! - He begged. He knew he sounded pathetic and he didn't care. - Stay with me, please!

-You always make it better... - With a slight smile, she closed her eyes, her hand slipping from his.

The Queen of Albion was no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Merlin didn't know how long he sat there, holding the cooling body of his first and last friend in Camelot, before he was disturbed by a voice.

-It hurts, doesn't it? - Tristan asked quietly. - To watch as your hopes and dreams die with the one you care for more than for life itself.

Merlin turned slowly, looking almost uncomprehendingly at the former smuggler and his blood-stained hands. Then his mind slowly started to process the information, briefly covering the grief and the shock with anger.

-You! - He growled, slamming Tristan into the wall and grabbing him by the throat not with magic, but with his own hands, still covered with Gwen's blood.

-Me. - Tristan acknowledged simply.

- _Why_?! - The cry came from the depths of Merlin's soul, uncomprehending and accusing. - Was it because you too thought she was a weak queen? You know better than anybody that that's not true. Or did they offer you money? Did you betray your queen because of something stupid and useless like that? Because I'm going to kill you. I'm going to kill you here and now and you'll never get to spend your gods-damned money. - He snarled.

-Of course not. - In contrast, Tristan's voice remained calm, if somewhat hoarse. - I did not kill Guinevere because I wanted to gain something or to hurt her. I killed her because I wanted you to see, to understand and to feel what it feels like to lose everything due to something small and useless and ultimately pointless. Something, that could have been easily prevented. The way _she_ died.

-What? - Merlin let Tristan go. He killed her to get at Merlin? _Gods, she died because of me!_ \- Who died?

-Isolde! - Finally, Tristan's composure broke and he shoved Merlin away with a snarl. - Why did she have to die to keep your magic secret? It was not something you could keep for long anyway and in the end you easily revealed it when it was no good to anyone anymore. You could have killed Morgana and Helios easily, couldn't you? I heard the account of that night from your own lips. You slipped into the castle, you caught Morgana helpless. I've seen your power. It would have taken no effort to kill them both. Yet, you preferred them alive. _Alive to kill Isolde_! Now you'll see what I saw, feel what I've felt, grieve as I've grieved, unable to change anything. This will be something that you'll regret for the rest of your life and know that you could've easily prevented it, had you been sensible back then.

Merlin staggered back. That was it? All of this, all this death, the fall of Albion just for a twenty-year old grudge? This was worse than Nimueh, this was worse than Morgause, this was even worse than Morgana.

The warlock didn't make any speeches or chant any incantations. _Swilte, Tristan_ , he thought calmly. A flash of golden eyes. A crack of a broken neck and a thud as the body fell to the ground.

-This is where you're wrong. - Merlin said quietly. - I'm not going to regret this for the rest of my life, because I'm not going to accept it. I _am_ going to change this.

With a sigh, Merlin opened himself to the world, feeling every stone, every whiff of air in the room. With another inhale and exhale, he submerged himself even deeper, feeling the passing of every new moment in the fabric of time and space.

When Gaius first found out about Merlin's casual control over time, he was horrified and spent hours explaining to the young and impressionable warlock just what the consequences could be if he did something wrong. Time, he lectured, is impossible to separate from the world itself. It permeates every moment of our lives, every nook and cranny in every place in the world. By attempting to slow it's passage Merlin could have ripped an entire piece out of the world's fabric, easily destroying the entirety of Camelot, or Albion, or even of the world itself. It was only after his mentor's death that Merlin dared experiment with time magic again.

Merlin sighed. He loved Gaius dearly, but the man never truly understood that a warlock is an entirely different breed from a sorcerer. A sorcerer plays with the powers he does not truly understand – it's like mixing liquids from random beakers in Gaius' lab and hoping it doesn't blow up, instead creating something useful. Someone like that _could_ , with the necessary control, knowledge and power, rip out a piece of the world. But Merlin was a warlock, he was a _part_ of the world's fabric. He could harm it no more than he could raise himself into the air by pulling on his hair (without magic, that is). Time magic had many applications and usages – as a matter of fact, he tied a piece of the time's fabric directly into his skin, making himself slip through the cracks in time, and thus making the world around him seem slowed just the slightest bit. Sometimes it got pretty boring, but usually it gave him slightly enhanced battle reflexes and an extra second or two to think of a reply to a query from a political enemy. Yet, there was one thing he never quite managed to do, and that was stopping the time completely. Sure, he could slow it to the point that it was practically indistinguishable (Gwen choked when he told her that that cheese was over a dozen years old), but never quite stop it. That made what he was about to do all the more impossible.

With an inhale, he gathered the power from the world around him, from the earth and the air, from the cooling bodies and ancient artifacts hidden in Camelot's Vaults. With an exhale, he further increased the rift between the time passing inside and outside the room. Inhale, gather, exhale, push. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

Eventually, he came to the same barrier that he always did. The energy required grew exponentially and soon he was starting to feel insufficient. Realizing that what he was about to do was unforgivable, he nonetheless proceeded, expanding his consciousness from beyond these walls and searching for the surrounding life – in the citadel, in the Upper Town, in the Lower Town, even outside the walls. He wondered, a little horrified, a little scientifically detached, if the hundreds of lives he was taking were enough to break through the barrier that allowed one to exchange a life for a life and a death for a death the way he once did with Gaius and Nimueh. Inhale, exhale.

The energy surged in a stream that was different from the ones that he ever experienced. When he took the life of Nimueh, her hopes and dreams, he woke up for months from uncertain dreams including younger versions of the people he knew and people that he never met, yet knew intimately. Gaius asked him no questions when he used powerful and rare spells that most certainly did not come from the only spellbook he owned, and Merlin had a sneaking suspicion that the physician knew more than he said and was supporting him in the only way he knew how.

The current stream was hundreds of times stronger and more saturated by information. He was a man, he was a woman, he was a baby born minutes ago and he was so old, he was held only by the strength of a fading will. He took it all, giving nothing in return and hoped that the Old Religion would aid them in their afterlives to restore the balance and right the injustice he was doing to them. Inhale, exhale.

It was still not enough.

With the strength of desperation, Merlin stopped reaching without and reached within. A warlock was a creature of the Old Religion, and Emrys was the very embodiment of magic itself. He was the son of the earth, the sea, the sky, and he was prepared to drain them dry to fulfill his desire. To not only stop the time, but turn it back on itself. He didn't need long, just a few minutes. Inhale. _Exhale_.

Something snapped and a clear, ringing sound reverberated in his head. For a second he saw Tristan's neck right itself and the former smuggler rise as if he'd never fallen. Then the backlash caught the warlock, flinging him back.

Images flashed through his eyes, sounds of speech, smells, touches. For a moment he was everywhere and he was nowhere, he was everyone, yet he was no one, he was at every moment in history, yet he never existed.

Then he crashed into the dirt, his back bruising and his head smarting.

-Ow. - The all-powerful warlock said plaintively.

It took him a moment to recall who he was, _Merlin_ , and what he was doing, and after that moment he darted to his feet. _Did it work_?

It seemed that the answer to the question was not as easy as he thought, for he was nowhere near Camelot. With a grimace and another curse toward the wardstones that he spend so much time acquiring and enchanting, he attempted to teleport to the Upper Town, hoping against hope that he traveled not just in space (through the blasted stones), but in time as well, and did not, in fact, murder the entirety of Albion's most populous city in process.

- _Astyre Camelot to!_

Nothing happened. Merlin tried again and then again, before he was forced to admit that it won't work. For a moment he was afraid that in his attempt he's lost his magic, but a conjured butterfly reassured him every bit as much as it did over a decade ago in the Crystal Cave. Unfortunately, this also brought him to a single, inescapable conclusion. In his attempt to break the world's laws, he did exactly what Gaius warned him about.

He destroyed Camelot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

As Merlin trudged through the forest he found himself in, he forced himself to accept everything that happened. Camelot was attacked, all of his oldest friends are dead, including Gwen. Tristan is a traitor that seemingly _did_ come back to life, but was likely destroyed in the backlash that leveled Camelot. Just what level of destruction must he have unleashed, wondered Merlin hollowly, that the spell won't even acknowledge the land as Camelot anymore? Did he truly rip it out of the fabric of the world? In that case he may just be the first warlock to actually lift himself by tugging on his hair. Yay.

What now, he wondered. His duty to his queen was ripped away from him the way his duty to his king was. His duty to Camelot was rather obviously undone by his own hands. He refused to even think about his duty to the Council of the Kings of United Albion. There was little room in his mind for doubt as to whether they truly supported Rhydderch's takeover. A lot of their old allies, the ones that still remembered Arthur, were either retired, like Queen Annis and Lord Godwyn, or dead, like Odin and Rodor. Mithian might have been on Camelot's side, but her husband was the King and Gwen had to blackmail him for support after finding a few skeletons in his closet. Vivian married Lot, who supported strength (which Camelot rather lacked now due to loss of its queen, its knights and its capital) and Elena married Bayard's oldest son, who would not hesitate a second to take Camelot's land if he could get away with it. Northern Reaches along with Northumbria would rebel the moment they find out there's no one to enforce their loyalty, and Amata may suddenly recall that they were an independent kingdom with its own king at one time, erupting in a civil war for power. Southrons were a mixed bag at the best of times, and with the Saxons arriving in ever-increasing numbers from the continent, they had their hands full, though not even they would manage to hold back the tide. For all intents and purposes, Albion has fallen along with its Queen.

Something moved on the periphery of his vision and Merlin promptly froze, once again wondering where the Otherworld he was, and what kind of people he may encounter. A rapid beat of paws and a slight hiss made it rather clear that it wasn't the people he had to worry about. As a matter of fact, he could almost swear that he's heard this sound before...

-Oh, _now_ you deign to appear. - The warlock said darkly, turning toward the Questing Beast. - Aren't you supposed to be an omen, as in appearing _before_ the events? Or are you telling me that, similar to your encounter with Arthur portending the wars with Morgana and Saxons, you appear to say that Gwen's death would bring nothing, but disaster? Thanks, but I've figured that one out myself.

The Beast flicked out its tongue, smelling him, and then promptly turned and left.

-Wait, what? - Merlin blinked. That was the most bizarre encounter in his life... Ok, not _the_ most bizarre, but definitely up there. Over the years he's met enough creatures of the Old Religion to realize that the more predatory ones _really_ didn't like him. Apparently their Old Religion senses felt his power and interpreted it as something like an apex predator encroaching on their rightful territory. So, rather obviously, they tried to get rid of him by any means necessary. For the Questing Beast to just _leave_ , as though he wasn't even there... That was just bizarre.

Merlin shook his head and continued on his way. Was his duty to the Wizards' Council? It was an interesting question. He was the one that helped to create it, as well as the emissary between the two Councils, for no other magic-user dared appear before the kings. But it wasn't all sunshine and rainbows either. The Old Druids accepted him unequivocally, or almost unequivocally. The newer druids, composed of magic-users, as well as their families and sympathizers, who took to hiding in forests, and were labeled druids among with the old ones, were grateful for the lifting of the Ban on Magic, yet wary of his affiliation with Camelot. Their children, raised on stories of bloodcloaks and murderer-kings, along with the renegade druids and the remains of the powerhouse that was the Isle of the Blessed, were often downright hostile, and it was one of the Wizards' Council's jobs to regulate them and deal with those who commit crimes, though it wasn't always certain what was a crime and what wasn't. Not to mention all those times the younger generation attempted to assassinate him or remove him from power with political means. Merlin was highly tempted to let them try and then watch them deal with the resulting Second Purge. And that's only if they survive the coming Saxons. Still, he had some friends there and a lot of people who relied on him, and it would only be right to warn them.

- _Astyre Sefa to_!

That transportation spell worked no better than the last one and Merlin was starting to get worried. After all, he met Sefa scant hours ago, just before heading to Camelot. What could have possibly happened to her in that time?

- _Astyre Iseldir to!_

Once again the spell resulted in absolutely nothing happening.

-Come on, - Merlin said, suddenly frightened, - I couldn't have possibly killed every last human in Albion, could I?

 _-Astyre Hunith to!_

 _-Astyre Kilgharrah to!_

 _-Astyre Mithian to!_

Merlin breathed hard and fast, but tried to persuade himself that he wasn't panicking.

- _Astyre Essetir to!_

Nothing happened. Ok, he was now officially panicking.

-Aaargh! I couldn't have possibly destroyed the entirety of Albion, could I? No, of course not, because where else would I be? But, but, you know, I wasn't being serious, when I tried to sacrifice the earth, the sea and the sky, right? And I can still see them, so they haven't been ripped away from the fabric of the world, right? Or have I been the one ripped away? No, no, that's ridiculous. Maybe I just lost my ability to manipulate time and space. That would be more logical right, I abused my abilities and privileges and the Triple Goddess took them from me. And just because I haven't seen a single living thing...

Except that wasn't quite right, was it? He met the Questing Beast, and he was certain he heard some birds singing and... Feeling a bit silly, he still decided to do it:

- _Astyre Questing Beast to?_

Oh, gods, does the Questing Beast count, or does he have some kind of an Old Religion name? He does, doesn't he?

But before Merlin could work himself into panic, he felt the familiar sensation of flowing on the world's magical currents, even if they were for some reason much more powerful, turbulent and chaotic.

The spell promptly deposited him on his backside in front of the Questing Beast. With a cry, Merlin jumped forward and hugged the startled creature.

-You have no idea, how happy I am to see you. - He muttered, snuggling into its scaly neck. The Beast hissed slightly, shaking Merlin off, then took a piece of its kill (not human, thankfully) and deposited it in front of him.

Merlin blinked:

-Are you trying to comfort me? - The Beast hissed and prodded the bloody meat toward him. - Thank you. This is one of the most awkward, yet endearing gestures anyone's ever done to me. I think the last one who did something like this was Arthur after one of his hunts. Though he'd probably haunt me from beyond the grave if he knew I compared you to him. - The Beast hissed again, and Merlin hurriedly corrected himself. - Not that there's anything wrong with being a giant scaly creature of the Old Religion. Kilgharrah is one too and he's my kin. Though, - he thought for a moment, - I don't think he'd like the comparison either. Well, tough. A being as old as him should know by now that that's how families express affection.

The bushes rustled somewhere behind him and the Questing Beast raise its head, hissing threateningly toward the skinny red-headed middle-aged man that stumbled out and froze upon seeing the surreal picture.

-Bad Questing Beast. - Merlin frowned, thumping his beasty on the head lightly. - That man's not food.

-I-I'm not? - He stuttered out. Merlin frowned as he looked at him. There was something rather familiar about the man... Nah, probably a relative of one of his contacts. Still, this at least meant that Merlin had not, in fact, wiped out the human population of Albion.

-I don't know, are you? - He asked.

-No, I'm not. - The man continued more confidently, even if his hands continued shaking. - Ah, no that we've established that... Can I leave?

-Of course, I'm not holding you. - Merlin frowned, and, correctly interpreting the man's look, continued. - And I won't set beasty to hunt you down for fun, I promise.

The man nodded jerkily and valiantly attempted to look as though he wasn't running away. He failed. As his screams faded in the distance, Merlin sighed and stroked the Questing Beast again:

-You know, as much as I like you, I really should get going and try to find a human settlement. I do need to send a word to my friends and figure out what's wrong with my teleportation.

The Beast rose to his paws with a truly animal grace and with nary a look back loped forward.

-Wait, - Merlin yelled, - did I upset you? I did not mean to imply that your company is insufficient, it's just that I have duties...

He trailed off, noticing that the Beast stopped and shot him a look that could only be interpreted as exasperated.

-You want me to follow you? - Merlin asked. The Beast snorted and proceeded down his path. - Wait, come on, give me a moment! - The creature pretended it didn't hear anything and Merlin sighed. - Yep, it's just like being with Arthur on one of his hunting trips.

Surprisingly (or not) it only took half an hour to hear the sounds of a busy village on a less-than-busy afternoon. Men shouting, women shouting, children shouting, dogs barking and cows mooing. Yep, just like in his childhood when mom tried to get him to sleep.

Less surprisingly, the Questing Beast decided to abandon him here. Merlin felt a weird pang of loss, but comforted himself that, like any good stalker, he could bring himself to the Questing Beast's side with just a few words.

The village was in the midst of celebration. Barrels of mead were opened and, judging by the redness of the faces, more than a little empty, some shady guy with a stringed instrument captured all the symphony of a skinned cat and men and women were wildly waving around each other, pretending to be dancing.

-Mind if I join in? - Merlin asked with a grin from a matronly dame sitting near the barrels.

-Are you after the mead? - She asked suspiciously.

-No. - Merlin said honestly. For all his faults, he never tried to drown his grief in alcohol.

The dame's face immediately stretched into a grin.

-In that case, the more the merrier!

-What are we celebrating? - Merlin asked in slight bemusement.

-You haven't heard? The queen's child's been born! A son!

-Wonderful! - Merlin said enthusiastically. - Er, which queen?

Because while he _was_ away for quite some time, he was certain that Gwen would have told him if she were pregnant.

-Why, Queen Ygraine, of course! And her darling son, Prince Arthur!

Merlin paled then went red, before excusing himself and falling onto the nearest bench, hearing something ringing in his head.

 _What?!_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

It was almost midnight when they came.

Merlin was huddled in a corner, miserably nursing a drink he managed to acquire, when he heard the screams from the formerly merry crowd. With a grumble, he rose to his feet and wished he still had his staff as he swayed with the wind.

The picture he saw was not an unfamiliar one – during his travels through what was once Odin's kingdom, he saw soldiers drag people, kicking and screaming, out of their homes, and slaughter them without a hint of mercy or regret. Except, this time the soldiers were not Saxons. This time they wore the red cloaks of Camelot.

The image worked better than any of Gaius' sobering potions, and Merlin pushed forward through the crowd to block the knights' way.

-What do you think you're doing? - He growled.

-By the order of the king, all practices of sorcery are forbidden on pain of death, and all the sorcerous scum must be put down like dogs. - One of the knights sneered. - So get out of my way, peasant boy.

Merlin swayed. He couldn't believe that he forgot it. The Great Purge, starting on this very night! Fortunately, one of the men behind him held his wits and shouted:

-We ain't heard nothin' like this from the king!

-Of course. He wouldn't want to give you scum a chance to hide, would he? - The knight smiled unpleasantly. - As a matter of fact, I think the two of you are protesting too much. I think you are sorcerers. Take them down!

As soldiers turned their weapons against him, as the man who questioned the knight was dragged forth, Merlin was stuck with a dilemma. He was in the past. Any and all of his actions could alter the course of history, changing the people and events that he knows. Wouldn't it be better if he teleported away and _stayed_ away, until the time of Gwen's death comes. Or, better yet, Arthur's death. Or Lancelot's. Or Balinor's. Or Freya's. Or...

His musings were interrupted when the soldiers ripped a crying little girl out of her mother's arms.

-No, don't hurt her, please don't hurt her, please, I beg you! - The mother cried, falling on her knees.

-The little witch probably has her mother's magic. - The knight said, looking bored. - Kill her.

Merlin's eyes darkened.

-I don't think so. - His voice was calm. Too calm for those who knew him (of which there were none, not anymore).

The knight scoffed and nodded to his soldiers, who threw the girl away and shoved their pikes toward the warlock. The next moment they went flying through the air only to crash to the ground. Merlin did not particularly care if they would ever get up again.

-Sorcerer. - The knight spat hatefully. - Kill him!

The soldiers surged toward the warlock, surrounding him in a wary circle.

-If you leave now, I promise to spare your lives. - Merlin stated calmly.

-Uther won't. - A dark skinned soldier muttered.

-Shut up, Tom! - Hissed his neighbor, throwing a glance back at the knight.

Merlin sighed, suddenly feeling very old and tired. These men, they were not evil. They did not go killing women and children for fun, they were merely afraid of what Uther would do if they refused. They were cowards, but that was punishable by their own conscience, not a death sentence.

- _Swefe nu._ \- He muttered, raising the magic straight from the earth in a circle based on his position. Pikes crashed to the muddy ground with several splats, followed by bodies falling down in enchanted sleep.

The knight snarled, paling in fury and fear.

-Kill him! Kill him, kill him, _kill him_! - He snarled, but the remaining soldiers hesitated, murmuring amongst themselves. Merlin allowed himself a small smile and it pushed the knight over the edge.

With a growl, the man grabbed his own sword and raced toward the warlock, hoping to get there before Merlin had a moment to pronounce the incantation. Against an unexperienced sorcerer it might have actually worked.

 _Cniht, i_ _c þe healte._ _-_ He incanted mentally with the speed of thought, stopping the knight in his tracks, unable to move even a finger.

-Under the kingdom's laws, - Merlin said quietly, calmly, - I believe, murder of children is punishable by hanging. Due to your noble birth, it would likely be changed to beheading. Am I wrong in my beliefs?

-That's not children. - The knight hissed when Merlin freed up his head so he could answer. - That's the spawn of the devil. Magic-using scum like you are a blight in the eye of God. We worked with your kind when the King ordered us to, but now that he's opened his eyes to your wickedness, we won't stop until the last of your kind are gone from the earth! Long live the King!

Merlin's eyes were hard and flinty.

-So be it. _Ic, Emrys, þe ácwele, strengþe ealde æwfæstnesse!_

It felt as though someone dropped an anvil on his shoulders. With a cry, Merlin fell to his knees, holding his head in his hands as something tried to crawl out of it. It took him a moment or two to see the blood dripping out of his nose.

With a roar, the freed knight swung his sword, fully intending to smite the sorcerer, but was thrown back as the child's mother desperately incanted in the Old Tongue.

-Witch! - The knight growled, throwing a knife at her. The woman's eyes grew wide, but Merlin wasn't about to let her die on his watch. Forgoing the ceremonial execution he's been going for, he used the one skill he's had since he was a babe – telekinesis. The knife halted midway, before reversing its momentum and slamming into the knight's shoulder. Merlin's been going for the throat, but apparently the reputation of Camelot's knights was deserved. With a howl of pain and fury, the knight retreated, grabbing his horse. The warlock would have liked to stop him from getting away, except that the world around him was still rather wobbly.

-Are ye alright, young man? - An older gentleman helped him up.

-Ugh. - Merlin replied eloquently. - Did you catch the horse that kicked me?

The old man laughed.

-If ye can still joke, ye'll be alright. Should'a tried it beforehand, eh?

-I did. - Merlin grumbled, feeling more or less stable. - This is the first time something like this happened.

-I'm not an expert, but me sonny used to practice with a hedge witch. Maybe ye offended one of the gods, eh? I heard the tales and stuff.

-I don't think so. I've just said that I, Emrys, slay thee by... - His eyes widened.

Could it be? He's never had the problem before, but... could this be a post-effect of traveling through time? After all, Emrys has yet to be born, and Merlin had once witnessed a poor fool, who's tried to call himself a High Priest in the Old Tongue. The Queen's Sorcerer wasn't a particularly religious person, but it was hard to remain an atheist when a person is ripped apart in front of you by seemingly empty space for sacrilege. In retrospect, perhaps he should abstain from calling himself Emrys. No point in tempting fate.

The soldiers left with their commander, but the chaos and fear they've left in their wake were not as easy to dispel. The merry-making was forgotten as the villagers huddled together, whispering and avoiding the bodies of the slain.

-Don't worry, 'm sure this is just a mistake. - The old man told him. - The king's order was misunderstood or some knights jus' wanted to fight. After all, it was almost two years since we've signed the last peace treaty an' there's nothin' more for them knightly types to do.

Merlin bit his cheek. Was this what people thought at the beginning of the Purge? That all of this was just a mistake that'll soon be dealt with? And Uther clearly had no compunctions against using said faith. For gods' sake, he didn't even make an official announcement before sending his knights out to kill!

-What if tha knight was right? - Came the voice from the crowd. - What if tha king wants them sorcerers dead?

The entire village fell quiet for a moment.

-Please, - it was the girl's mother who broke the silence, - you know us, we've never done anyone any harm!

-I always thought there was somethin' wrong with her, she's not married and with a child already. - A woman with an unfortunate mole under her nose told her husband, but in the silence of the village square her words came through loud and clear. The crowd erupted in whispers and scant moments later the poor mother was blamed for everything that went wrong in the village, from milk gone sour to the famine the year before she arrived at the village ("to hide from da king's justice, o' course" - the villagers nodded wisely).

-Have ye all gone mad? - The old man who stood by Merlin barked. - Ye all _know_ Lily and Enmyria! John, ye used to gather flowers for her! Jack, she healed ye from that illness not a month ago! Mary, fer gods' sake, ye breast-fed Enmyria!

For a moment it seemed as if the old man's words would reach his fellow villagers. But then their eyes went to the ransacked houses, to the bodies lying out on the street and they were once again united in fear against the evils of magic.

-She's just hiding who she really was! - The woman with the mole said loudly. - She's clearly up tah no good!

-That Enmyria must be the reason why mah baby came ou' stillborn! - Mary cried.

-I wasn' gathering flowers, - John said, shooting wary looks at his wife, - I was enchanted!

Merlin didn't know who threw the first stone, but soon the hands of every villager, every man and woman started creeping to the rocks on the ground, and the stony deluge increased in size and severity. The old man cried out as a stone hit his knee, Lily knelt, trying to cover her daughter with her own back and another young men, who was dragged out by soldiers but not yet slain, swayed as he was given a glancing blow across the temple.

-Enough! - Merlin snarled, righting himself. Every single stone still in the air froze, creating a surrealistic picture for those unacquainted with magic.

The villagers murmured fearfully. Someone tried to grab an axe, but with another flare of Merlin's eyes it flew across the village square and got stuck in a wall with a dull _thud_.

-I said, enough. - Merlin told the man calmly. - I see there's no reasoning with you, so here's what's going to happen. We're going to leave, calmly and peacefully, and you're not going to send anyone after us. Anyone I see and recognize will be dealt with as though he's my enemy. And you don't want to be my enemy. Am I understood? Good.

The villagers whispered among themselves, but none moved to stop him.

-Leave? - The old man asked, looking lost. - I can't leave, I spend my entire life here. 's a mistake, it'll be sorted out soon, you'll see...

-It was not a mistake, I'm afraid. - Merlin told him gently. - The King's turned on all those with magic.

-But I don' _have_ magic!

-Mama... - Little Enmyria tugged Lily by her sleeve, but the woman was too busy watching the hostile mob to reply to her daughter.

-Neither do I, gramps. - The teenager snorted. - D'ya think these bunch of... of ruddy bastards care? They'll gut us the moment we turn 'r backs. I say we leave and don' look back.

-But... But...

-Mama, I want Daisy...

-Come on, Gildas. - Lily took him by the arm gently. - None of us like it, but there's nothing we can do about it.

-Mama, mama, I want Daisy!

-Eni... Eni, wait!

But the little girl got tired of being ignored and ran right back into the house, ignoring the unease of the mob. Some woman tried to throw her torch at the house, but Merlin was faster.

- _Bael on bryne!_

The fires from every torch in the village flared up, surrounding the mob with a fiery curtain, creating barely-controlled panic and much screaming.

-Do not try me. - Merlin said dangerously. - Try something like that again and I'll burn the entire village to the ground.

The villagers didn't doubt him.

Daisy turned out to be a doll. It also turned out to be the only thing the exiles were willing to risk their life to get. And thus, with nothing but a doll and the clothes on their back, a warlock, a witch, a child, a teenager and an old man set out with no destination in mind and an entire kingdom wishing for their demise.


End file.
